


Drinking and Fighting

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [10]
Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), New Teen Titans, Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Mild Language, barfights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose needs to blow off some steam at the local dive bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking and Fighting

The night was young, dusk just darkening the city streets. The one-eyed young mercenary was out and about, between jobs and itching for some excitement. For her, only three things ever took the edge off of the constant itch her father's enhancement serum left under her skin. Fucking had got her embroiled in emotional battles she didn't care to repeat, which left her with fighting, or drinking herself into oblivion.

Moving further into the seediest side of town, she examined the local venues, hoping to find one that might offer her a little of both. Cheap beer and an unruly crowd could often lead to flaring tempers, particularly with her unique ability to ruffle even the calmest of feathers. She'd get some overpriced rotgut into her system, and then perhaps indulge in some fist to face distraction.

She chose the scummiest of the selections on the row. The neons on the sign were faded, black spots glaringly obvious where the gas had failed to continue to flow. She pushed open the door, grimacing a little at the tacky surface of the handle. Apparently the great unwashed beyond had been handling something unpleasant.

She wiped her hand off on her jeans, wading through the veritable wave of scent that clung to the place. Old blood, stale cigarettes, cheap beer and sweat. Something about that particular combination helped soothe her frazzled nerves, and a little of the tension left her shoulders as she stomped across the sticky floor.

The white-haired girl in the leather jacket and eye patch found herself a stool with a minimal number of tears in the cushion, right near the register at the bar, and swung up, matched katanas breaking the fall of the jacket as the brushed against the stool top. She bared her teeth in a mere approximation of a grin at the bartender, and tapped the filthy counter.

"A double shot of your cheapest whisky, and a pint of whatever lager you got on tap." The large man behind the counter grunted, fingers wiping across his stained, formerly white shirt as he turned to fetch her order. Her single blue eye flickered across the place, sizing up the patrons and weighing the odds of who would respond best to the instigation to fight.

Receiving her drinks she even gave the slovenly bartender a reasonable tip. It wasn't his fault the place was crawling with crooks and losers. Tossing back the double shot in one go, she chased it with a swig from her pint and hopped off the stool. If she wanted a reasonable bar fight she'd have to leave the proximity of the all too tempting rack of bottles.  
  
Putting a little extra shimmy in her hips, she brushed past a table full of what appeared to be bikers, her gaze sweeping the room once more, lingering with a touch of surprise at the man with the cane on display across his table. Didn't see that every day. Still, she sauntered on by and found herself a seat at an unoccupied table, shrugging off her jacket so she could sit on it, revealing her tight green t-shirt and the pair of katanas sheathed across her back to the whole room, not to mention the pair of daggers strapped to her forearms.  
  
Perhaps it was a risk flashing that much artillery to a room full of drunken thugs, but her lips curved into a smile as she sipped from her bitter lager again. Trouble was kind of her specialty after all. Not soon after a figure approached her table, and her single-eyed gaze flickered up to watch the man approach.

Rose darted an irate glare at the man with the cane as he stood and approached, interrupting her so easily baited prey. The first man that approached her gave them both a sloppy smile, his eyes moving to rest on the girl's cleavage.

"I ain't gonna cause any problems here, I just wanna chat with the first pretty girl to walk through those doors. Can ya blame me?"

A small laugh escaped the female mercenary's lips. A harsh, deadly sound that was completely bereft of anything resembling humour. Her single-eyed gaze flickered back and forth between the drunk and the man with the cane.

"I'm sure I could find it in myself to blame both or either of you for something. Perhaps merely for interrupting before I have managed to finish my first beer. What do you think?"

Rose's gaze followed the man with the cane as he retreated from the conversation, allowing her to deal with the drunk in her own way, or not at all. She carefully set her stein down as the drunken man's hand moved towards her chest. Lightning fast reflexes, faster than the average humans, kicked into gear and there was suddenly a dagger in her hand, pinning the large man's hand to her table.

Sure she could have driven it through his sleeve, but putting a blade through the fleshy part of a grown man's hand tended to get his attention. The man was rather drunk, and he blinked a few times before it all set in. He hollered, his other hand coming around in a meaty fist aimed at Rose's head.

The mercenary ducked, sliding out of her chair and under the table, rolling across the filthy floor to come out on the man's other side. She held one of her katanas in her hand now, resting the blade lightly on the drunk's shoulder, just grazing his neck. "Now now, didn't your mama teach you to ask before you touched?"

Rose stepped back and drew her second katana as the man threw his cane, knocking down the drunk's backup that had been approaching from behind her. Years of practice had taught her that motion helped compensate for her blind spot, and she flipped, landing on the table beside the big man's hand, still pinned to the table where she left it.  
  
"Aw, I'm flattered boys. Four of you for little old me?" She grinned, gaze flickering over to judge the man who had interfered. "If you are itching for a fight, I'm not so greedy as to keep this one to myself. But don't come rushing in on my account. I can handle myself."  
  
With the disclaimer in place, her conscience was clear. If the dude wanted to keep playing hero, that was his business. She kicked the dagger hard enough to dislodge the dude's hand from the table, causing him to yell out again as she brought the pommels of both swords down on his shoulders. She used the momentum from that to leapfrog over the drunk, drawing one blade across her front in a defensive position and her other crossing the nearest thugs wrist, forcing him to drop the switchblade he had drawn.  
  
Rose laughed, a dark joy running through her. Fighting was her life's blood. It energized her, and with her adrenaline up, her own unique ability clicked into place, warning her of an incoming hit before the man behind her even thought of it. She half turned, catching his leg with her own, twisting her more nimble limb around his knee and using her enhanced strength to pop the joint, eliciting another howl of pain from him.

Rose dropped the thug with the dislocated knee to the ground, her eyes following the man with the cane as he neatly took out one of the other goons through enthusiastic application of fists and cane. She was admittedly impressed, there was a precision to his movements that you rarely saw these days, as if he understood the conservation of movement. He turned, knocking the lead offender's gun onto the floor, and Rose shook her head.  
  
"A gun at what is clearly a blade fight? Uncool, asshat." Whirling around she caught the final thug's neck between her blades, her scissor hold pressing the sharp edges dangerously close to his neck. Her eyebrow raised in a question that barely matched the sadistic curl of her lips. "Aw, are we coming closer to day, fuckboy?"  
  
The intrepid backup shook his head, mumbling profuse apologies. Feeling generous, since a fight was what she had come in here for, she allowed the big fella to back it on up and scurry away. No one had to die today, it was almost a pity.

The man with the cane was a ballsy fucker, she'd give him that at least. After tackling the morons with her though, she felt she at least owed him a drink and the passing of a few somewhat friendly words. She accepted the stein of beer from the bartender with a smile, stepping over one of the fallen goons to seat herself at the stranger's table.

"I can't complain about free beer, but tell me buster, what exactly caused you to step in on my little disagreement there, hmm?" Her eyebrow lifted quizzically, her single eye taking in every detail of the man seated in front of her. She liked a mystery, and a challenge.

She nodded, sitting back and sipping her beer as he discussed his former career, and lamented the state of honour among the disenfranchised. It was nothing she hadn't heard before, and she'd not give him her pity, for the daughter of Slade Wilson had discarded such emotions long ago.

"Dishonourable folks get things done, when those that hold to morals are left on the shore, shaking their hands and fretting." She tipped her glass towards him. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I have more in common with the assholes lying on the bar floor right now than any that claim to be good and honest."

"Be that as it may, I thank you for giving my life a thrill of excitement once again. Whomever trained you was a master of the sort."

Rose laughed and shook her head, giving the man a smile that was not really friendly or welcoming. "My father is many things, a master of what he does is indeed one of them. A manipulative bastard is the main thing though." She drained her beer and set it down on the table, giving the strange fighter the full attention of her single eye.

"Now tell me the truth. I doubt you interfered for excitement alone, none of the others would have lifted a finger. Did my father send you, or are you looking for him?" In her experience, those were the two reasons anyone entered her little sphere of existence.


End file.
